


try to put my finger on it

by ellatrobbie



Series: Five Stages of Truth (or Dare) [2]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, In Which Toby Gazes Lovingly, and Happy needs to smash things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellatrobbie/pseuds/ellatrobbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The whole thing makes her angry, his carelessness, his stupid heroics. If he wasn’t already hurt, she’d do it herself." // Anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	try to put my finger on it

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a (PG) follow up to [ baby, this ain't true or dare ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3549509) although it can be read on its own.

He’s so quiet in the truck she thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep. He’s turned towards the window so she can’t see his face when she glances over, which is more often than she’ll admit. But she can see the sling wrapped around his neck, holding his arm in place. The whole thing makes her angry, his carelessness, his stupid heroics. If he wasn’t already hurt, she’d do it herself.

She takes it out on the road instead, making fast corners and running lights. She just wants to get to his place faster, get him out of that bloody, ripped t-shirt. She glances over one more time and her truck catches a pothole on the road. He groans at the bump. At least she knows he’s awake.

“Y’know the emergency part is over, right?” he mutters. She rolls her eyes, bites her tongue, focuses on the road, and ignores how fast her heart is still beating.

* * *

Neither of them really says anything until they’re inside his apartment. He’s able to move around by himself; managed to unlock his door after she’d fished the keys out of his back pocket. She follows him to the kitchen, drops her bag on the floor and lifts herself up onto the counter. He goes straight to the fridge, lifts a can of soda above his head. “Want one?” 

“No.” 

He closes the fridge with his foot, sets the can on the counter next to her so he can open it with one hand. 

“I could really go for something stronger right now, but I don’t think the meds in my system would agree,” He cracks a smile at her before taking a long gulp. She narrows her eyes, watches him, the way he tenses whenever his shoulders move. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” She asks suddenly, her eyes shift up to his and they’re both surprised at her outburst. But she’s furious with him, so now that she’s started she continues, “It was stupid and reckless and -” 

“Oh jeez, Happy, _you’re so very welcome_ ,” he interrupts, sarcasm dripping. He raises an eyebrow at her as if what he’s saying is obvious, “You were facing the other way, I wasn't sure you’d react in time.” 

“So you jumped in front of a bullet.” The words hang between them for a second before he shakes his head gently. “It’s a through-and-through to the shoulder. I mean, I did get _sho_ t, but I’ll be okay. And it’s kind of badass, don’t you think?” 

“Three inches down and you would’ve been in serious trouble.” 

“Three and a half,” he corrects, then looks straight at her and cocks his head with a wry smile, “Are you angry at me for saving your life?” 

“It’s not your job to protect me,” she mutters, staring at him harshly. The last thing she needs right now is him trying to shield her from the bad guys, like she’s some delicate flower. He should know better. He should know _her_ better. And if they’re going to keep doing whatever it is they’re doing, she needs to know he’s not going to go all White Knight on her. 

“Sure it is,” he says, and waits a beat to see her face harden before continuing, “Relax, _Mulan_. I’d do it for anyone in the team; we all look out for each other, right? You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

She exhales a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, stares at him. He’s right, she hates to admit, she wouldn’t think twice before doing the same for anyone in Scorpion. And that included him. 

“Of course, I get the confusion. Some of my services do only apply to you but life-saving is not a Happy Quinn exclusive,” he adds with a smirk. 

He’s an absolute idiot, she decides. Not that she didn’t know this before, but it’s almost impressive how many times he feels the need to remind her. Luckily he’s standing pretty close, she reaches out, grabs a handful of his t-shirt as far away from his wound as she can and pulls him between her legs, leaning down to catch his lips with hers. He’s ready for her, but still takes a moment to set his soda can on the counter next to her. She licks into his mouth, and he responds in kind, moves his good hand up her thigh slowly until his fingers are gripping at her hip. 

When they pull apart, she rests her forehead down against his. “Was that a thank you?” he asks. 

She’s about to roll her eyes but she spies the collar of his t-shirt where the blood reached before the paramedics came. She’s pretty sure she has blood on her too, and she doesn’t want to think about it. About the moment she turned around and saw him fall to the ground. Doesn’t want to think about three and half inches of luck that she doesn’t believe in. 

“You should get changed,” she says flatly, nudging him away from her so she can jump down from the counter. 

“Are you playing nurse right now? Because I’ve been thinking about that and I might have some ideas.” He jokes as he follows her to his bedroom. She was here last night, left right before midnight and left no traces. He’s never asked why she never stays the night; she suspects he knows the answer. 

He kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his jeans with one hand, but stops when she steps towards him to pull the sling gently from around his neck. The t-shirt is fully ripped off his left shoulder, so she pulls at it, ripping it all the way down so it’s easier to take off. 

“This is definitely a dream I had once,” He muses, and she bites her lip, determined not to smile. 

When the t-shirt is off, she picks up the sling from where she dropped it on the bed and pulls it over his neck as he moves his arm gently to fit it in. She can feel his muscles tense again and she knows he’s still in pain, maybe the painkillers haven’t kicked in yet, or maybe the adrenaline is wearing off. But he’s being weirdly quiet about it and she thinks it might be for her sake. 

She moves her hands down, unzips his jeans and pushes them down, before moving her hand to the bulge of his cock. His breath hitches, and she feels him hardening under her palm. 

“Good to see I’m not totally broken,” he mutters lightly. 

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” she replies, before pushing him gently so he sits down on the bed, “With the right handiwork at least.” 

They both freeze at that, he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow and she just kicks herself silently. She’s definitely been spending too much time with him. 

“That was really-” 

“Shut it!” she snaps, leans down and presses her lips to his until he’s lying down on the mattress. She moves over him, careful to not touch his left shoulder or arm. He kisses her back eagerly, although he’s unable to stretch up much. She moves back so she can get rid of her own boots and jeans, reaches over to the nightstand to grab a condom before climbing back over him. She climbs up and straddles him, sees him watching her with dark eyes and presses her hips down against his. He groans and reaches his uninjured arm out so his fingers can ghost against her leg. She almost expects him to pull her down to him; she’s been getting used to him taking charge in bed, sometimes, when she lets him. 

But she opens her eyes, remembers why they’re not at work on a Wednesday afternoon, and leans down to kiss him again. 

* * *

 She waits for him to say something; he’s stopped staying silent after they have sex, stopped pretending to be asleep. She always goes home, or kicks him out on the few occasions they’ve gone at hers. So he fills the short time it takes for her to get herself together with inane chatter, ego-boosting quips on the quality of her orgasm, and other things that make her momentarily regret starting this whole thing. 

Now there’s nothing but even breathing. He actually is asleep, probably exhausted and this has drained the last of his energy. She gets up from his bed, looking around. For once, she actually can’t leave. Remembering she doesn’t have a change of clothes she pick her underwear up from the floor, finds a spare t-shirt in his drawers and pulls it over her head. 

She’s never really explored the rest of his apartment. She’s been here before, of course, but she’s never really looked around. He has a lot of books, stacked almost everywhere from the bookshelves lining his walls to under his coffee table. And on top of it. She moves closer, sees a book haphazardly thrown on the couch, bookmark sticking out. Picking it up, she’s almost surprised it’s a textbook on mechanical engineering, but then, it seems like exactly something he would do. She’s about to flick through it to check whether it’s worth his time, when her phone suddenly rings out from her bag. 

She runs for it, hoping the sound didn’t wake him up in the bedroom and sees Walter’s name on the caller ID before she answers. 

“Hey, how’s Toby?” his voice comes through. 

“He’s fine. He was already back to his annoying self before I got him to get some sleep,” she replies, voice hushed. 

“Good. He’ll need a lot of rest, as well as fluids and food while his body recovers from the shock,” Walter rambles on. She knows, even Toby knows, but she lets him go on because she knows he’s just worried. “I can come over and stay with him, if you want to go home?” 

Somewhere in the background she hears a muffled “No” that sounds like Paige. She pauses, making a note to ask whether he’s spilled the beans to anyone in the team about their - _whatever this is_. 

“I can stay,” she says finally, “You can bring some breakfast in the morning if you want to take over. Doc’s got nothing in his fridge but old Chinese.” 

“Will do,” Walter affirms. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“Yep,” she replied, before ending the call and returning back to the couch and the book. 

 

* * *

She blinks awake to a dark living room. She can hear some shuffling from the bathroom, and there’s light streaming in from the hall. She follows the noise, finds him standing awkwardly close to the mirror as he’s trying to clean his wound. At least that’s what she thinks he’s trying to do. He has a towel around his waist, and his hair is still wet. For a brief moment she lets herself gaze over him, but she’s brought to reality when her eyes land on the way his arm is held against his chest as he tries not to move his shoulder too much. 

“The doctor told you not to get that wet,” she huffs as she walks towards him and turns him around by the hips. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he grins down at her, “And the paramedic said that, I’m the one with a medical degree.” 

“It’s almost midnight,” she answers, ignoring the rest. She takes the cotton buds out of his other hand and picking up the bottle he’s put by the sink. 

“You just need to dab that solution around it, and on it. Then apply a new bandage,” he instructs, “And then do the same to the back.” 

“How’d you think you were gonna reach that one without waking me up?” She asks pointedly, looking up at him. 

“Your lack of faith in my abilities _wounds_ me,” he says, as she opens the bottle, 

“Not more than this bullet did, but still.” 

“Hold still,” she mutters, and bites her lip as she reaches the wet cotton bud to his shoulder. She’s gentle, barely touches his skin at first. _He’s fine_ , she reminds herself. She’s used to dealing with broken metal, not broken skin.  She breathes out quietly; maybe the two aren’t so different. 

She finishes applying the solution, and sticks on a new bandage, and only then does she notice he’s staring at her. It’s different to how she usually catches him staring; his eyes are soft and warm and his mouth isn’t smiling but she can tell that _he_ is. She gazes up at him, words caught in her throat. 

He blinks, swallows hastily before he turns around so she can reach the back of his shoulder. “I’m starving.” 

“It’s almost midnight,” she repeats. She’s hungry too though, neither of them has eaten since lunch and it hadn’t exactly been an uneventful day.

“I know a place that delivers all night?” he offers.

She hums in acknowledgement and listens as he picks up his phone from the countertop and order dinner for both of them. She’s not even surprised when he guesses what she wants. 

* * *

The next time she wakes up, on the couch again, the living room is bathed in warm morning light. Her phone’s just buzzed from wherever she’s left it nearby. They’d fallen asleep on the couch, post-midnight dinner. Her head is on his shoulder she realises, and she shifts hastily to move her weight until she realises he’d somehow managed to sleep upright against the back of the couch, putting no pressure on his shoulder. 

She un-tucks her feet from under her and reaches out to check her phone. The message is from Walter, letting her know he would be there soon. She pushes herself up from the couch, careful not to disturb Toby, and goes to his bedroom to get changed back into her own clothes. The last thing she needs is Walter finding her half-dressed. 

“Hey, wake up,” she says, back in the living room and leaning down to poke him in the leg. She’s about to offer him coffee, or painkillers, but he grabs her wrist before she can say anything. Judging by his reflexes, he probably wasn’t asleep at all. 

He pulls her down towards him, and she could pull away if she wanted, but she follows his lead until her face is close enough to his so that he can lean up to kiss her. The kiss is sleepy, but needy and eager. She runs her tongue past his lips and he lets go of her wrist, moves his hand up to cup her cheek. She just about decides to lower herself back down to the couch when there’s a knock at the door. 

They pull apart at the same time; she straightens, licks her lips a little to sooth them. She gazes down, but he’s already looking up at her. His gaze is serious, but not harsh, and it reminds her of last night in the bathroom.  She bites her lip, tucks her hands into her back pockets but doesn’t look away.

“You, Happy, make an excellent nurse. I’d consider a career change,” he says, letting his lips quirk into a smile. 

Her lips tighten as she suppresses a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Still, she shoots him a parting glance as she picks up her bag before heading to the door. “

I brought coffee and bagels, I thought you might need both,” Walter says, stepping inside as soon as she opens the door. 

“Walter, you’re my hero!” Toby calls out from the couch. 

“Thanks,” she says, grabbing one of the cups, “But I’m gonna head home.” 

Walter nods, doesn’t ask any more questions and she closes Toby’s front door behind her. 

 

* * *

She heads to the garage instead. It’s early enough that neither Paige nor Sylvester have arrived yet and it’s a relief to have some space to herself. Her heart’s been beating heavily since yesterday afternoon, and she needs something other than him to drown it out. She searches her materials for anything she can hit with a hammer, or break apart, or _anything_. 

Finding an old sheet of metal, she drags it to the bench at the back of the garage. She hits at it hard, lets the loud noise fill the space before she hits it again, putting her weight into it. She’s not thinking about him as the metal bends over the edge of the bench. She’s not thinking about how he got shot _for her_ as she turns it over and hammers the other side. She’s not thinking of three and a half inches when the sheet finally breaks and one half clatters to the floor. She _can’t_.


End file.
